


any other name

by practicallywritesitself



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Drug Store Encounters!!!!, Embarrassment, M/M, SECOND CHAPT IS UP!!!, Strangers to Lovers, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, azula is forgiven because she deserves it!!!, mentioned katara/aang, mentioned mai/ty lee, mentioned past zuko/jet, mentioned past zuko/mai, obligatory flower shop/tattoo parlor au, sokka works at his dad's tattoo parlor, they're across the street from each other, zuko is allergic to flowers. of course., zuko works at iroh's flower shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/practicallywritesitself/pseuds/practicallywritesitself
Summary: "Zuko literally has no idea how he ended up here, flirting with the hottest guy he’s ever seen in the medicine aisle of Duane Read, but he’s definitely not complaining."flower shop/tattoo parlor au <3
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 1250





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> insp. by a post on tumblr by @paristwists!!
> 
> first foray into zukka!!! looking back i definitely identified with zuko because i too am gay and unable to properly express my emotions. anyway, fluff!!!

Zuko’s allergic to roses.

It’s part of the reason he hates Valentine’s Day so much. Over the past week, he’s had to make at least fifty bouquets featuring the flowers, and every night he’s gone home with a runny nose and bloodshot eyes, too tired to do much more than flop down on his bed and fall into a deep, sinus-induced sleep.

Even worse, because Uncle’s too old to drive himself now, Zuko’s been recently designated the role of delivery boy for the shop. His newest responsibility -- driving the truck all over the city dropping off flowers -- has not only exacerbated his allergies, but also his distaste with romance. He’s sure he’s seen enough teary newlyweds and overly enthusiastic twenty-somethings for a lifetime at this point.

(The worst, of course, was when he was assigned to deliver an arrangement of fresia to his ex-boyfriend’s apartment. He guessed it was a pretty original way to break the two-month long radio silence he’d been fostering with Jet.)

Still, Zuko really can’t complain. To begin with, he’d do pretty much anything for his Uncle. After getting kicked out, Iroh had taken Zuko in immediately, without question. The least Zuko can do now is make some pretty bouquets for him.

But even beyond that, Zuko’s found over the past couple months that he actually _enjoys_ being a florist. He’d always been creative, but flowers offered a unique outlet for his imagination. Zuko loves the way he can combine texture, color, and form in so many different ways -- and he has to admit, he’s getting pretty good at it.

The added bonus of this whole gig, of course, is its location.

And by location, Zuko doesn’t mean its proximity to Ba Sing Se University, where he’s studying International Relations and Art History, or even the little garden attached to the shop where Uncle grows his chamomile.

No, Zuko’s most interested in the fact that it’s directly across the street from the South Pole Tattoo and Piercing Shop.

Not that Zuko’s all that into tattoos. He’s never been inclined to add another permanent marking to his skin -- one scar’s attention-grabbing enough for him. What attracts him to the shop isn’t their body art. It’s their youngest employee.

Zuko feels pretty idiotic about that. If anything should intrigue him, it should be the fantastic work they do. Every day, Zuko sees people walk out of the shop with vibrant color wrapped around their bodies, detailed artwork decorating every inch of them. As an art student, he can definitely appreciate the artists’ skills. 

Still, what he finds himself staring at through the graffitied windows is the man who works closest to them. Zuko noticed him almost as soon as he started working for his uncle. It was hard not to -- his chair was directly in Zuko’s line of sight across the street. Zuko’s pretty sure he would’ve taken notice of him anyway though -- he’s just _that_ magnetic.

It’s the same today. The day before Valentine’s, and a very single Zuko is making yet another rose arrangement. He’s doing his best to muscle through it, but his sneezing fits are starting to get in the way of his work. More importantly, his good eye’s swelling so intensely his view out the window is getting blurrier by the second.

He sighs and sets down his clippers, frantically bringing his elbow to his mouth to avoid spraying the flowers with another sneeze. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and bends down under the counter, looking for his allergy meds.

After a few moments of searching, he finds the box and pulls out the plastic pack. It’s empty.

Zuko resists the urge to scream and throws the box (rather aggressively) into the trash can. He’s about to decide he can power through when he’s overtaken by another sneezing attack, and he realizes he’d be a lot better off running over to the drug store than passing out over the primrose.

He throws on his coat and pulls his scarf over his face as he walks out into the chilly February afternoon. The wind is dry and freezing, and the bite isn’t helping his runny nose. He’s sure he looks like a mess with his matching crimson nose and scar.

Luckily, the drug store isn’t far, and within a couple minutes he’s warming up in the over-the-counter medicine aisle. He’s trying to decide whether he should buy into the natural remedy movement when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

He pulls it out and reads the message lighting up his screen.

_MAI: got a date for tomorrow? didn’t think so. come over at eight, we’re watching love, actually w ty lee and azula_

Zuko can’t stop a grin from stretching across his face as he reads. Mai knows him better than anyone, and she’s definitely the only person he’d let tease him over his lack of romantic involvement. If he’s honest, he can’t think of anything much better than spending a night in with his ex, her new girlfriend, and his formerly estranged, recently reformed sister, as insane as that sounds.

Zuko grabs the store brand medication off the shelf -- he’s not risking the butterbur gummies failing him -- and heads towards the register while he types out a response.

_ZUKO: wouldn’t miss it. ty lee better be baking. can you ask azula to bring me m_

Zuko’s interrupted when he barrels straight into someone and falls backwards.

He tries to catch himself, stumbling back before grabbing onto the shelf nearest him to stop the fall. Unfortunately, that backfires: the shelf comes off the wall with Zuko’s weight and he continues his tumble, landing on the ground alongside a dozen bottles of calamine lotion.

His back hurts from the impact, but more pressingly, he is embarrassed out of his _mind._ After several years in customer service, Zuko can only imagine the way in which whatever teenage employee is working this shift is going to react when they find out how much stock is rolling in this aisle.

Distantly, he hears a voice over him: “Oh, shit! Are you okay, man?”

Zuko can’t help but let out a tiny groan -- which, yeah, is probably dramatic, but between the growing red spots on his elbow from carpet burn and the sheer amount of mortification currently running through his veins Zuko feels he owes it to himself. Even worse, when he looks over, he notices a new crack in his phone screen.

Whoever Zuko ran into is now kneeling next to him, obviously concerned that Zuko has gone into some kind of shock because, well, Zuko’s not giving him any reason not to think that. He’s just laying there on the ground like he’s been shot.

Zuko lets his head loll over to the side, taking in the stranger for the first time. And --

Oh, Tui and La.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

Kneeling over Zuko is the guy from the tattoo shop.

He’s _way_ more attractive up close. And they’re pretty close, right now. The guy’s face is, like, mere inches from Zuko, so close that he’s sure he could count the number of perfect, ink black eyelashes framing his baby blue eyes, blown wide in anxiety. Zuko scrambles backwards, still laying on his elbows because he’s not sure his legs will be able to support him if he tries to stand.

The man sits back on his heels, resting his hands on his knees, but he stays leaned forward. “Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Me?” Zuko squeaks. _Obviously, dumbass._ “Yes! Yeah, I’m fine. Just--” he gestures vaguely to the bottles strewn about and shelf laying on his chest. “Cleanup on aisle...me,” he jokes halfheartedly. Holy fuck. What is his problem?

To his great surprise, the man laughs hysterically, the sound coming up from his belly. “Okay, that was _so_ funny,” he says once he stops, and Zuko’s lips quirk up in a self-conscious smile. The man holds out his hand and Zuko, after a disbelieving pause, takes it and allows himself to be pulled up easily.

Once he’s standing, the guy doesn’t let go of his hand immediately. Instead, he grins and leans down to pick up Zuko’s phone. He places it in his hand. “I think you were in the middle of a text,” he says.

Zuko pockets his phone without opening it. “It wasn’t important. Definitely not important enough for me to knock into you.”

“No worries.” The man’s smiling at him, and Zuko can’t help but drink in his appearance. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a tank top that shows off his rather large, heavily tatted arms. The art covers almost every inch of them, the designs ranging from a miniature Great Wave to what looks like an enormous flying buffalo.

“Is that a lotus?” Zuko finds himself asking, pointing at a small tattoo near the base of the man’s wrist. It’s probably a weird, and slightly inappropriate, question to be asking, but he’s caught off guard by the design. It reminds him of the little game pieces he used to play with at his uncle’s apartment when he was little.

The man’s grin widens. “Yeah. My favorite teacher died a couple years ago, and we used to always play Pai Sho together. I got it in memory of him.”

“My uncle and I play Pai Sho all the time,” Zuko says enthusiastically.

“Yeah?” the man asks. “Maybe we’ll have to get together and play together, sometime. I’m Sokka, by the way.”

 _Sokka._ Zuko barely resists the urge to say it slowly, let the syllables roll over his tongue. What a perfect name.

“Zuko,” he replies instead, shaking Sokka’s outstretched hand. 

“Oh! Oh, damn!” Sokka facepalms. “I knew I recognized you. You work at the Jasmine Dragon, right?”

Zuko’s jaw nearly drops. He never would have guessed that the hot guy across the street took any notice of him, let alone would recognize him.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, a little shyly. “And you’re an artist at the South Pole.”

Sokka’s smile turns proud. “Yep. It’s my dad’s shop. Been working there since I was fourteen.”

“Really?” Zuko asks, impressed. “They let you become a tattoo artist that young?”

Sokka’s grin falters. “Well, not exactly. I mostly just, like, made the coffee and did some runs for disposable gloves.” Sokka holds up the box in his hands, which contains the aforementioned gloves. “Some things never change, I guess.”

Zuko laughs, and Sokka visibly brightens.

“How about you?” he asks. “My sister’s ordered some stuff from your shop, and it’s always stunning. How long have you been a florist?”

“Um…” Zuko thinks back. “Four months?”

Sokka’s jaw actually _does_ drop. “You’re kidding.” When Zuko shakes his head, Sokka barks out an astonished laugh. “Dude, your arrangements are _insane_. I’ve seen you setting up the displays outside. They’re crazy beautiful.”

Zuko's face heats up a little. “Well, thanks.”

“No problem.” Sokka’s eyes make a quick trip up and down Zuko’s body before landing back on his face. “Not as beautiful as the artist, though.”

This time, Zuko’s face explodes into a blush. Subconsciously, he runs his hands through his hair, trying to push the fringe out of his face. He’s really not sure how to respond, so he just shifts his gaze back and forth, avoiding Sokka’s eyes.

“Unless you’re not into that?” Sokka adds quickly. “Sorry if I misjudged, just...the scarf, and the hair and everything --”

“No!” Zuko says quickly, looking back at Sokka. “No, you’re right, I am definitely into that.”

That is certainly not the most eloquent way to respond, but Sokka seems relieved, so Zuko forgives himself for coming out in the most embarrassing and roundabout way possible to the guy he’s been admiring for the past several months.

“Okay, good,” Sokka says. “In that case...do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

Zuko literally has no idea how he ended up here, flirting with the hottest guy he’s ever seen in the medicine aisle of Duane Read, but he’s definitely not complaining, so he tells the truth.

“Technically, yeah, I do. But even more technically, those plans are with my sister and lesbian best friends, so I think they’ll understand.”

Sokka’s eyes sparkle. “So it’s a date?”

Zuko bites his lip against his goofy grin. “Yeah. It’s a date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED THE SECOND CHAPTER! and it's long as shit. but i hope you guys enjoy!!

While Zuko was correct in assuming the girls would understand his new plans, he severely overestimated how cool they would be about him scoring a Valentine’s date.

When he calls to tell Mai he won’t be coming over for the movie because he’s got a date, he figures it’ll be a quick conversation. Instead, Ty Lee screams in the background for an entire minute while Mai grills him about how it happened. After struggling through an abbreviated account of his encounter with Sokka, Mai announces that she, Ty Lee, and Azula will be by his and Uncle’s shared apartment by four P.M. to help him get ready. Zuko tries to argue but Mai just hangs up.

So Zuko finds himself shrinking into the corner of his futon, legs pulled to his chest, as his sister and best friends bustle around his apartment with impossible speed. Ty Lee is going in and out of his room, tossing piles of clothes onto the floor in an effort to piece together something that makes Zuko look less like a broke college student and more like an Instagram influencer (her words, not Zuko’s.) Azula’s running around tidying everything, as if Zuko would ever be able to work up the courage to invite Sokka back to his place. Mai, thank the stars, is on damage control, tasked with making sure Zuko doesn’t get overwhelmed or lose his nerve before he can push himself out the door -- something that has, embarrassingly, happened before on several occasions.

Mai’s sitting criss-cross next to Zuko on the couch, painting on dark eyeliner for him. “So, what happened after he asked you out?” she asks, her voice raised slightly over the din of Azula and Ty Lee screaming at each other about the color of Zuko’s socks.

“Um, he gave me his number,” Zuko says, doing his best to keep still so she won’t mess up. “And then he checked out and left.”

Zuko’s eyes are closed, but he can practically feel Mai rolling hers. “And?”

“And,” Zuko continues, “I went back to the shop.”

Mai lets her hand fall in frustration. “And  _ then what?  _ What’d you guys text? Did you make dinner plans? Is he picking you up?”

Zuko opens his eyes and shrugs. “Um, we didn’t text much. He asked for my address and I sent it to him. He said dinner was a surprise, but, like, look nice, I guess.”

“You are the worst best friend ever. What is the point of keeping you around if I can never get  _ details  _ out of you?” She grabs his face again, squeezing to indicate he should close his eyes again. He does as instructed, and Mai continues painting.

“It’s not my fault,” Zuko insists. “Sokka’s...mysterious. I think he wants to surprise me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” comes Azula’s voice from Zuko’s bedroom doorway. “You  _ love  _ surprises, don’t you, Zuzu?”

Zuko peeks open the eye Mai isn’t working on and glares at his sister. “Okay, it’s one thing when the surprise is what fancy restaurant a hot guy is taking me to. It’s another story altogether when you put  _ fire ants  _ in my  _ mattress padding _ .”

Azula shrugs, looking supremely unapologetic. “There was a discount at Petco.”

Zuko’s about to retort, but Mai turns his face to work on his other eye. “Well, I hope it’s not too fancy, because it looks like all you have are band t-shirts from 2010 and sweatpants.”

“ _ And  _ this amazing jacket!” Ty Lee screeches, emerging from Zuko’s bedroom. “Where did you get this, and why have I never seen you wear it?”

Mai lets go of Zuko’s face so he can look at the jacket Ty Lee’s holding up. It’s black velvet, with white stripes on the cuffs and hem, and up and down the arms are embroidered flowers in all shades of red.

“Oh, yeah,” Zuko says, and he can’t help but let his mouth twist up in a little smile. “I bought that when I first started school. It caught my eye and it reminded me of Uncle. With the flowers, and all. Never had an occasion to wear it, though.”

“Zuko, if I had this jacket, I would  _ make  _ occasions to wear it,” Ty Lee says, running her hands over the fine threading. “Anyway, you’re wearing this tonight.  _ And  _ I found some black jeans that will go perfectly. You’re gonna look  _ so hot. _ ”

Zuko blushes slightly as Azula makes a face. “Shut up, you’re talking about my brother.”

Ty Lee shrugs and heads back into Zuko’s room, the jacket draped carefully over her arm. Azula huffs noisily and heads into the kitchen to finish her unnecessary scrubbing of his counters.

Mai is laughing as she tilts Zuko’s face towards her. Zuko furrows his eyebrows as he closes his eyes for her. “What?”

“Ty Lee’s right,” she answers as she presses the makeup brush against his scar. “You  _ are  _ gonna look hot.”

* * *

Zuko finds himself thanking every power that may be that Uncle isn’t home, because he is  _ positive  _ he wouldn’t be able to handle introducing Sokka to the girls  _ and  _ Iroh.

Sokka is extremely punctual. The doorbell rings at seven sharp, and Zuko and his compatriots are equally caught off guard. Ty Lee’s still ironing his shirt, Azula and Mai are arguing over whether the black sneakers or the red Converse will match the outfit better, and Zuko -- well, Zuko’s sitting shirtless on the couch and trying his best to stave off a panic attack.

All four look at each other for a moment and then explode into action. It takes all three of the girls to finish Zuko’s dressing -- Ty Lee wrangles his shirt over his shoulders as Azula shoves his feet into the sneakers and Mai combs her fingers through his hair. Zuko stumbles his way over to the door, and the girls release him and step back just as he reaches it.

Zuko swings the door open and there’s Sokka, leaning against the doorframe and holding -- hysterically -- a bouquet of roses.

“I, um, stopped by your shop,” he explains, gesturing to the flowers, “and your Uncle said roses were your favorites.”

Zuko struggles to keep his smile on his face. “He did, did he,” he says as he takes the flowers, carefully avoiding touching the petals. Uncle will be getting an earful about this later.

Azula comes up silently behind Zuko and puts her hands on his shoulders, turning him gently so she can take the roses. As Zuko shifts them into her hands, she slides an allergy pill into his palm. Agni, he really doesn’t know how he survived without her all those years they were separated.

“You must be Sokka,” she says sweetly, her beauty queen smile growing across her face.

Sokka’s face visibly brightens at being recognized, but he’s obviously confused. 

“Oh, Sokka, this is my sister,” Zuko introduces, stepping aside so Sokka can see into the apartment. He points to Ty Lee and Mai, who are curled up together on the couch. “And this is Mai, my...ex-girlfriend, and Ty Lee, her...new girlfriend.” The girlfriends in question wave, and Zuko scratches the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a long story,” he says awkwardly, not meeting Sokka’s eyes.

Sokka laughs, and waves at the girls. “Nice to meet you guys,” he says. “And don’t worry, I’ll have Zuko home by eleven,” he jokes.

Azula’s smile fades and her eyes narrow. “You’d better,” she says, her voice dangerously low. Sokka gulps, obviously unsure of whether or not she’s joking.

“Ignore her,” Zuko says quickly, and Azula’s grin returns in full force. Mai and Ty Lee stifle their laughter behind him. “Uh, let’s go?” Zuko asks, anxious to leave his sister and friends behind.

Sokka nods, still looking a little put off by Azula. Zuko makes sure to shoot a glare at her as he shuts the door behind him, and she blows him a kiss innocently.

After the door closes, Sokka visibly lets out a breath and leans against the nearest wall. He raises an eyebrow at Zuko. “Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Zuko bounces on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “Thanks for picking me up,” he says.

“Yeah, of course!” Sokka recovers quickly from his Azula-induced panic attack and pushes himself off the wall, looking around the hallway. “This place is really nice.”   


“Yeah, I guess the floral business is more profitable than you might expect.”

Sokka and Zuko regard each other, both smiling, and Zuko finally allows himself to take in Sokka’s appearance. He looks as good as he always does: hair pulled back in his usual wolf-tail, blue button-down tucked into jeans and rolled up at the sleeves to show off his tattoos. The blue, Zuko thinks distractedly, brings out the color of his eyes.

“So, you ready?” Sokka asks, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

Zuko nods, and then they’re on their way.

Sokka, apparently, doesn’t have his license. Zuko can’t really blame him: Ba Sing Se is a busy city, traffic is always hell, and there’s about a million crossways and stoplights. Mostly, though, Zuko just finds it endearing. From everything he’s learned about Sokka, he’s clearly capable -- successful tattoo artist, responsible employee, hardworking son. It’s nice to know he isn’t perfect, even if that only manifests in his driving skills.

Because both he and Zuko make minimum wage, Sokka’s decided to save them a little cash on a Lyft and escort Zuko to dinner via sidewalk. They walk from Zuko’s apartment building down the city’s main road, passing little boutiques and food stands all the way.

“I love this city,” Zuko finds himself saying, somewhat unexpectedly. His face immediately heats up. What a weird thing to say about the place you live.

But Sokka grins. “Me too. How long have you lived here.”   
  
Zuko reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “Um, about a year.”   


“Really?” Sokka asks excitedly. “Where’d you live before?”

Zuko stares straight ahead, not daring to meet Sokka’s eyes. Zuko likes Sokka --  _ really  _ likes him, probably more than he ought to considering they only formally met a day ago -- but he’s definitely not ready to admit that before enrolling at the University, he was the heir to an international, multi-million dollar corporation and the son of one of the world’s richest oil tycoons.

“I lived in Caldera City,” he answers vaguely. Not a lie -- it’s where Sozin Industries was based and where Zuko grew up. Still, it’s a city of three million, so it isn’t too obvious a connection.

“Oh, shit!” Sokka exclaims. “That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to visit. What’s it like?”

Sokka’s so eager to learn more about the Fire Nation capital that Zuko fills up the rest of the walk with tales from his childhood. Sokka seems genuinely enraptured by the stories, inserting little “oh’s” and “wow’s” intermittently, and Zuko finds he’s actually  _ enjoying  _ discussing it. He leaves out any mention of his parents, but even the stories featuring Azula’s childish torments aren’t as painful as Zuko remembers them being.

They come to a stop on the street where their shops are located -- in fact, they’re only a few storefronts down from the Jasmine Dragon. Zuko turns to Sokka with his eyebrow raised amusedly, and Sokka shrugs. “This place’s got the best burgers in town.”

Zuko hums. “Well, lead the way, then.”

They enter the restaurant -- curiously named Kyoshi Bar and Grill -- and Sokka ushers Zuko into a booth. Apparently Sokka knows the hostess, because she barely looks up from her notepad when they enter and only rolls her eyes when Sokka flashes her a smile.

They sit across from each other, each tucked into their own bench. Before long the hostess comes over and drops a couple menus in front of them. Sokka shouts, “Thanks, Suki!” The girl lifts her hand and raises her middle finger in response.

“ _ My  _ ex-girlfriend,” Sokka explains.

Zuko stifles a laugh as he picks up and reads his menu, and Sokka does the same. Every couple seconds, Zuko glances up to look at Sokka, and each time, Sokka catches him. It only makes Zuko’s dumb grin grow.

Sokka sets down his menu and leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. “So,” he says.

“So,” Zuko replies coyly, leaning back and dropping his own menu.

Sokka’s dimples flash. “How’d you become such a good florist?”

“Natural aptitude, I guess. How’d you become such a good tattoo artist?”

“I’d like to say the same, but it was actually a lot of practice and my unshakable determination to follow in my father’s footsteps.” Suki comes back and sets two glasses of water in front of the boys. Sokka pouts. “Aw, no beers?”

“No, because I know you’re not gonna pay for them.” Suki crosses her arms and leans against the side of the booth. “So this is the guy you’ve been mooning over for the past four months?”

Sokka’s cheeks go red and he looks ready to strangle Suki. Zuko’s own face heats up. Sokka  _ noticed  _ him before yesterday? He  _ talked to his friends about him? _

“I’m Zuko,” he introduces instead of leaning across the table and kissing Sokka’s face off. “I work at the florist down the street.”

“Oh, my God! You’re Iroh’s nephew?” Suki pushes Sokka further into the booth so she can sit down. “Dude, Iroh is my  _ favorite person ever.  _ He comes in like once a week and orders  _ tea.”  _ She sighs happily, looking vaguely into the distance. “He’s so fucking weird,” she says fondly.

Zuko’s not sure how to take that, but it’s not like she’s wrong, so he smiles uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, thanks. I guess.”

Sokka shoves Suki hard, and she almost falls to the ground. “Suki,  _ I’m on a date,”  _ he hisses. “Get lost.”

Suki stands and holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.” She clears her throat and straightens her posture, her expression morphing into an obviously fake smile. “Your server will be right with you,” she says in what Zuko recognizes (from experience) as a customer service voice. She then flicks Sokka’s head and walks away.

“Sorry about that,” Sokka says, rubbing the spot Suki attacked. “She can be...intense.”

Zuko finds that his face has stretched into a smile. “Ex-girlfriends can be that way.”

Sokka’s own face breaks out into a grin, and he drops his hands into his lap. “So, that long story about your ex? I’d love to hear it, now that we’ve got the time.”

So Zuko explains his and Mai’s high school love affair, leaving out no detail. He chronicles their whirlwind romance in sophomore year, their bond over bad punk music, and their eventual, disastrous break-up once they both realized they were exceptionally gay.

“Wow,” Sokka says at the end. He’s practically crying laughing, wiping tears out of his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath. Zuko’s never considered himself funny, but if a couple dramatized recollections of his coming-out journey are what it takes to make Sokka laugh like that, Zuko will seriously consider changing career paths and becoming a comedian.

Zuko struggles to restrain a grin. “Yeah. Guess I don’t have a great track record with girls.”

Sokka opens his mouth to say something, but his face falls as his eyes slide past Zuko. His eyes widen in what seems to be pure fear. “Oh, stars,” he whispers.

Zuko turns cautiously in an attempt to see what’s got Sokka so spooked. The only thing he notices, though, are two people sitting at the corner booth: one’s got rough-cropped brown hair framing her face and the other, a strange-looking blue arrow tattooed on his forehead. The boy’s peering over the top of his menu, obviously at the couple. The girl’s menu is upside-down.

Zuko turns back to Sokka, whose expression has now turned into a combination of mortification and anger. “Uh,” Zuko says, “you know those two?”

Sokka groans. “Unfortunately.” He pushes himself out of the booth and stomps his way over to the corner booth. Zuko’s not sure what to do, so he follows Sokka.

Sokka stops next to the table, his arms crossed. Zuko stays behind him. “What the  _ fuck  _ do you guys think you’re doing?” Sokka interrogates.

The guy with the arrow tattoo looks up, acting unconvincingly shocked. “Sokka!” he exclaims, an impossibly bright smile plastered across his face. “What a coincidence! Toph and I just wanted to pick up a couple burgers. Right, Toph?” He turns eagerly to the girl, who leans back in her seat.

“Yeah. Burgers,” she says without turning her head or attempting any level of persuasion. 

“I made Katara  _ promise  _ she wouldn’t tell you guys where I was going,” Sokka moans, bringing a hand to his face. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Relax, Captain,” the girl says, actively peeling the fake leather backing off the menu with frightening determination. “Katara didn’t tell us. You left your Find My Friends on.”

Sokka’s hand falls. “Well, you still shouldn’t have followed me,” he snaps after a moment.

“Well, we did, so introduce us!” The boy turns his grin towards Zuko expectantly. It’s a little off-putting how incessantly cheerful he is, Zuko thinks.

Sokka steps aside reluctantly. “Zuko, this is Aang, my sister’s boyfriend, and Toph, the annoying-ass gremlin that lives next door to us.”

Toph raises her hand in greeting. 

“This is Zuko,” Sokka adds.

“Describe,” Toph says immediately, still facing away from Sokka and Zuko.

“Well, his hair is really long,” Aang says. “It, like, hangs over his eyes. It’s dark. And he’s got a scar over his left eye, like a burn mark, maybe. Really red and puffy.”

Aang says all of this without a hint of judgement in his voice, and Zuko would be offended if he wasn’t just in shock over how blunt the kid is.

“He’s got sort of an early-two-thousand-tens scene kid vibe going,” Aang continues, “but not in a weird way. In like a...Gerard-Way-if-he-wasn’t-so-greasy way.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Toph deadpans.

Sokka turns to Zuko quickly. “Please don’t mind them,” he begs.

Zuko can’t do anything but shrug. “Okay, but he’s not wrong.”

Somehow, Aang’s grin doubles in size. “I like him,” he whispers to Sokka loudly.

“Well, I don’t have much of a frame of reference, but he sounds...hot?” Toph guesses.

“Yes!” Aang exclaims. “He’s definitely hot.”

Sokka’s hand once again slaps his forehead in despair as Zuko finds himself blushing. He opens his mouth to say thanks, but Sokka pulls him away from the booth.

“Do  _ not  _ attempt to hack my phone and listen to our conversation over here,” Sokka calls without turning around, as if that’s something that’s happened before.

Toph crosses her arms and sinks into her seat as Aang waves enthusiastically at Zuko. Zuko lifts his hand and gives a tiny wave back, still processing the conversation.

Sokka deposits Zuko into his seat and falls into his own. “I want to say I didn’t expect this, but that would be a total lie, so.”

Zuko can’t help but laugh. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. They’re fun.”

“Hm.” Sokka shoots a glare at the corner booth once more, eyebrows drawn in frustration. “Fun is one way to describe them”

The rest of the date passes without incident. A waitress -- her nameplaque reads  _ Bee,  _ but someone, inexplicably, has written  _ SMELLER  _ in bold red sharpie above it -- takes their order and brings it back out within minutes. About halfway through the meal, Aang and Toph shuffle past their booth. Aang attempts to send Sokka a rather conspicuous wink but is cut short when he has to physically stop Toph from walking straight into a wall.

After that, Sokka and Zuko chat and eat and basically just enjoy each other’s company. Zuko learns that Sokka had been going to school for engineering, but dropped out after a year because, somehow, it was “too easy for him.” In return, Zuko tells more embarrassing Mai stories and explains color theory in excruciating detail.

Sokka insists on paying the bill, like some heteronormative, sexy knight in shining armor, and Zuko can’t believe how well this date went. Well, besides the fact that Azula might have scared Sokka enough never to return to Sokka’s apartment and Suki started cursing at full volume when she saw the damage Toph did to her menu.

Sokka walks Zuko home, too. There’s not as much talking this time: they’re both stuffed and sleepy and content to be in each other’s company. Without words, Sokka’s hand brushes Zuko’s in invitation. Taking the hint, Zuko, unbelievably, interlaces his fingers with Sokka’s.

By the time they reach Zuko’s apartment, he’s practically bursting from joy. Sokka, too, seems rather pleased with himself.

“I had fun,” he says, blue eyes sparkling.

“Me too,” Zuko replies earnestly.

They’re silent for a moment, looking at each other. Zuko desperately wants to do this again sometime.

He opens his mouth to tell Sokka as much, but he’s interrupted by the soft, sweet press of lips against his own. Sokka smells fantastic, like paint and musk and a little bit hoppy from the beer stench that percolated throughout the pub. It doesn’t seem like it would be a good combination, but Zuko’s practically drunk on it when it’s paired with the sensation of Sokka’s teeth on his bottom lip.

Sokka pulls away after a moment, which Zuko thinks is way too soon. Embarrassingly, his lips chase after Sokka’s but Sokka just laughs and pushes him back gently.

“Text me, yeah?” Sokka says after giving Zuko’s hand one last squeeze.

“You know where to find me,” Zuko says, the words sweet on his tongue.

Sokka backs into the open elevator, his smile bright and sincere. He waves as the doors shut, and Zuko lifts up his hand in response.

He wants to scream a little, but he unlocks the apartment door and pushes himself inside.

Uncle Iroh’s sitting on the couch, facing the door. He’s got his silk robe wrapped around him and a cup of tea to his lips, eyebrows raised expectantly at his nephew. On the coffee table in front of him is the bouquet of roses Sokka had brought Zuko, artfully arranged in a little glass vase.

“So, you told Sokka those are my favorites, huh?” Zuko says sarcastically as he tosses his keys into the little bowl on their entry table.

Iroh sips his tea innocently, but behind the cup, Zuko can see the devious smirk playing across his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! also, hmu on tumblr @practically-writes-itself!!!

**Author's Note:**

> i was actually laughing at parts of this because. oh my god. this au is absolutely unhinged.
> 
> i may write a follow up, idk. anyway, follow me on tumblr @practically-writes-itself and please leave comments and kudos!!! luv y'all


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